


Seeking Purpose After the War

by JAspirated_07



Category: The Bletchley Circle: San Francisco (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-08-02 04:28:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16298174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JAspirated_07/pseuds/JAspirated_07
Summary: Jean McBrian's journal entries regarding Claire's murder and her eventual adventure in America. Does she find the purpose she so desperately seeks or will she continue down the path she's forged back in Britain?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is told through Jean's journal entries: her hopes, fears, discoveries, and choices. The reflections are from the dialogue and scenes found in episodes 1 - 8 of Bletchley Circle: San Francisco. There will be additional things, missing scenes if you will, for some of her reflections and this will become more cannon divergent towards the end since there isn't a Series 2 (yet).

_8, April, 1942_

I am disappointed. One of my girls, Claire, deliberately threw away a communiqué that she had deciphered today. The message could help our American allies and she deliberately disobeyed my orders. When she came to me with it initially she suggested we use it as leverage, as a tit for tat sort of thing. She should know by now that I am not that sort of person. We are at war and the American’s are fighting on two fronts, why would we withhold information that may be vital to their success? I’m not sure this girl understands the gravity of the situation. We have been leading allied efforts in this global military theatre and _our_ information can mean the difference between victory and defeat. We have enough problems trying to coordinate efforts, which only become exacerbated when we are not willing or eager to assist.

Millie witnessed Claire tossing the paper into the bin as she was coming out of the loo and reported it to me. I was forced to have Claire reassigned to Bristol and she was none too pleased about it. She stormed out of my office when I gave her the news. I do hope that she learns a valuable lesson from this. Her attitude is unhelpful and only adds fuel to the fire for our countries disagreements with our allies over objectives and priorities. I’ll not be challenged in that way. We _need_ order if we are ever to hope to survive this war.

It's more disappointing than anything else. She is one of my brightest girls. She see's patterns where others see breaks. When she came on board I took her under my wing and she had been doing  _so_ well. In a way I feel betrayed by what she did. I thought we had a better rapport than that but perhaps I was wrong. 

Millie is going to invite her out for a drink at the party tonight welcoming the American GI’s who are arriving at RAF Daws Hill for a quick assignment before shipping back off to the European theatre. I _do_ hope Millie can brighten her spirits. This reassignment is meant to be a learning opportunity, one that I hope she takes to heart.

I think I will reach out to Claire in a few months after she has had time to reflect on her new position and what she has done and after I've had a chance to cool down myself! Even though she is a spirited girl I do believe she will come around to seeing that I was right and that it will make a better woman of her for it.

 

_9, April, 1942_

I was walking my usual route to Bletchley when I came upon a group of people milling about. It was unusual in as much as there is usually a few people walking the same path but not so many lollygagging about. Sadly that wasn’t what they were doing at all. One of my girls, Claire, was at the bottom of the steps leading to the basement of the building. It was horrific. I’ve seen death before, hell we all have with the Blitz. People torn asunder by rubble and debris and shrapnel, dying in flooded air raid shelters using the Tube; so much death due to this damnable war but I’ve never seen someone I personally knew murdered. I don’t think I will ever forget it. It is burned into my mind.

Claire was laid out her arms to the sides palms up staring lifelessly at the sky, blood all about her mouth. I could just make out a box with a little handle on it drawn on her palm in what I presume to be black grease pencil. When the CMP’s arrived on the scene they herded us back. I explained to them that Clair was one of my girls so they let me stay. I found out later… she’d had her tongue removed which was why there was so much blood surrounding her. Who would do such a foul thing? She was naught but a girl!

It wasn’t easy coming into Bletchley and addressing the other girls, letting them know that one of their own had been murdered. I could see how hard Millie took the news and I drew her aside to chat with her. She blames herself. She thinks that if she hadn’t invited Claire out then she wouldn’t have been there. I pointed out that if it hadn’t of been Claire it might have been another girl, might’ve been her…

 

_12, April, 1942_

I’ve just heard that they haven’t found anything in Claire's case and the leads, what little if any there may have been, have gone cold. The CMP’s were working with Scotland Yard but now the case is fully transferred to them. There is a tension at Bletchley that hadn’t been here before. It’s one thing to be at war and people killed due to war but it’s quite another when it’s murder in your own back yard. Everything has become dark and suspect. All the girls are on edge, not that I blame them. I do hope that Scotland Yard is able to glean something from this.

 

_27, April, 1942_

I am seething with rage. They are giving up the search. This shouldn’t have happened. Claire was a _good_ girl with a bright future ahead of her. I’m so angry with myself as well. Maybe if I hadn’t been such a stickler for the rules she wouldn’t have been there that night, she wouldn’t have died. I know women in my position in the other houses aren’t nearly as steadfast; even within my own house there is laxity! But no, _I_ made the choice. Rather than reprimand her and let her carry on in her work, the _good_ work she was doing for king and country I decided that instead she should be transferred and learn from the mistake. The arrogance that I displayed I may never live down…


	2. Presidio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Millie discovers a newspaper article from San Francisco about a murder that looks eerily familiar and comes to Jean to decide what to do...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Each chapter forward will be based on the episode in the series, hence the chapter being named the same as in the show. This is from S1E1. If you haven't watched the series then this is definitely spoiler territory. If you have watched it then it will be extremely familiar.

_12, March, 1956_

Millie came by the library today. We usually see each other on Sunday, our mutual day off, so I was a little taken aback that she came by in the middle of the week much less the middle of the day. She found an article in the San Francisco chronicle about a murder. I wouldn’t have paid it any mind except that when she showed me the picture my blood ran cold. I recognized that drawing on the palm. It was just like Claire. Seeing that picture made me reflect back on that horrid day when I happened upon her body on my walk into the office at Bletchley. Millie, bless her heart, wants to go immediately to America and solve the murder.

I know it’s been hard for Millie since the war ended; it hasn’t been easy for me either. Finding purpose after what we did, how we contributed and found out just how bloody brilliant we can be... well, how do you go back to being homemakers and mother's and no having no job after tasting autonomy. Being a wife and homemaker was a life I was never meant to lead.  I think that type of life would in fact make Millie die a slow death of banality. Millie is part gypsy, her spirit set to wander wherever the trade winds take her. Apparently she wants it to take her to America now.

But I don't think she is quite ready to take the plunge and that’s why she asked me to go with her. I told her it would be best if she provided the information to Scotland Yard so they could reopen the case and work with the Yanks to solve it. Millie seemed a bit crestfallen that I wasn’t as riled up as she to go over there and get justice... I’m a pragmatist. What could I do that the police couldn’t do over there? It’s been 14 years since Claire was murdered and now there is another one with fresh leads that the police can use to hopefully track down the killer.

I believe Millie is searching for any excuse to get out of the rut she has found herself in lately. She goes from one job to the next, one man to the next, and is never fulfilled. She's is still searching for what she wants in life whereas I’ve found it. I have my final interview for the position with the Foreign Office. It’s my dream and I can’t go gallivanting half way across the globe on a hope and a prayer that I could help solve a crime near 14 years old now. I’m sure that’s very disappointing to Millie. I used to be much more resolute and may have considered it in the past but… I can’t go spending my life savings on something that might still never be solved. I hope they catch the bloody bastard.

 

_14, March, 1956_

I was denied the Foreign Office post. The little bastard behind his desk with nary a whisker to his cheek scoffing at my credentials; condescending to me about the “adjustment” it would take to acclimate to any of the foreign cities he prattled off. As if I haven’t had to adjust to a great many things throughout my life, my _career_ ,  the least of which being talked down to by a man-child who was not but a boy during the war while I helped in the war effort. I can’t even disclose what I did or accomplished during that time. Instead all I can do is rely on their tests and my “enhanced clerical” classification. As if I was _just_ clerical; I was so much more... I _did_ so much more.

Dear god and that statement he made about marriage and how he said I’d have to leave the Foreign Office were I to marry! Look at me sunny boy I’m not exactly in the prime of my life anymore am I? This was my last, best chance at having any sort of life that I might want to live. Bloody bastard. Besides, I’m not exactly the “marrying type” am I? I wonder what he took of my response when I said that wouldn't be an issue.

When I got to the bus stop I sat waiting for the next one to come 'round and ferry me home but the more I sat there the more I thought of Claire. With my own dream now done up I can’t help but think about what Claire's dreams might’ve been had she lived. Where she might have gotten to were she still alive. Would she equally be struggling to find her place in this new world, having her dreams, her ambitions shot down one by one by egotistical patronizing men or would she be living her dreams and be happy? I’ll never know because she was cut down in the prime of her life, and that just isn’t right. Not by a long shot.

 

_15, March, 1956_

Millie popped over at closing to the library. She brought a bottle of cham thinking that it would be a celebration. I had the misfortune of having to tell her about the rejection of the Foreign Affairs office. She was as shocked as I had initially been. In true Millie fashion she suggested opening the bottle anyway but I countered with something a might stronger, whiskey.

I’ve made a decision. I’m bloody well going to America and will discover who this killer is. Thankfully, as if there was any doubt, Millie is still up for it, in fact she seemed almost gleeful that I had changed my mind. Millie is going to contact her cousin Edward who lives in San Francisco and owns property there. She will see if he has a flat we can use while we’re in city, which would be of immense help. I don’t think my nest egg could do with too large of a hit and truth be told I doubt Millie has much of her own money to put towards this endeavor. While she may be able to take that type of hit I still have to think of my golden years, such as they might be. Millie is going to book our passage on the RMS Queen Elizabeth. The journey shouldn’t take but maybe 7 days by sea and then 3 by rail to San Francisco from New York. The airlines although faster are nowhere near of being in the realm of our budget and I am quite all right with a steamer line. Give me a good sailing vessel with solid bones any day over those tin cans in the sky.

Last night when I made my decision to pursue this I started thinking about the end of the war. I’d had a correspondent, an S.I. at the Presidio in San Francisco, they were my contact and we passed along intelligence to each other. They went by Major Sixth. I’d received one last communiqué on VE day, a personal one from them at wars end but I’d never deciphered it. I did, however, keep it all these years as a token, a memento if you will of my time at Bletchley. I brought it with me to the library because if Millie and I are to make a go of this we will need all the help we can get. We’re going to need someone _in_ San Francisco to be our guide.

I took out all the cipher books and we dusted off our skills. It took us until midnight but by god we finally deciphered it. It read:

**Should you ever come and visit our shores come and find Bunk at the Big Bop.**

Millie teased me that I might have a date waiting for me once we reached our destination. I’m not sure I appreciated her particular brand of humor in that moment.

The missive also contained another quote:

**Men grow wiser every day.**

There is something vaguely familiar about that quote but I just can't put my fingers on it. I still don’t know what that means but Millie says we can ask him when we find him.

In any event we will have several days traveling to tease out what it may refer to.

So, we have a destination now. Our course is set. I hope I don’t regret this…

 

_20 - 30, March, 1956_

I was able to secure a few weeks off from my job at the library and Millie booked our passage for the soonest date available. Millie and I had a lot of time to go over the facts of Claire's case and examine the information in the paper about Ruby Anderson’s murder before we arrived in San Francisco. 

What we know about Claire:

  1. Attended the American GI’s welcome party the night she was murdered
  2. Last people to have seen her were other women present from Bletchley and the American GI’s in attendance
  3. She was found on her back, palms up, a box with a tail drawn on her palm in black grease pencil, her tongue cut out, eyes staring unseeing at the sky
  4. She was found out in the open (it was a tableau, something meant to be seen but to what purpose is still a mystery)



What we know about Ruby Anderson:

  1. Was discovered in a district named the Fillmore in San Francisco
  2. Was found in a similar fashion to Claire (the article in the paper ran with the title “Silent Angel Found in Fillmore District”)
  3. The killer wrote a letter to the paper in advance of the murder with key phrases 
    1. Angels who ascend to God
    2. Silent gifts
    3. Box on holy palms



It’s not much to go on but we have worked with much less in the past. I wonder at the type of paper that would show a picture of a body let alone a police precinct that wouldn’t properly drape the entirety of the body. But had they not had that picture run in the paper, had the police not fully covered the body and the hand with the drawing on it not been on display then Millie wouldn’t have recognized the similarities between Ruby and Claire… and we wouldn’t be making this journey without it.

  

_31, March, 1956_

We finally made it to San Francisco. The city is very different than London; it’s very young but beautiful. There is a brightness to it that is missing back home. We took the California cable car line to the last stop heading west to get to the flat Millie had secured from her cousin Edward. I quipped that “I thought Edinburgh was hilly” as we took the car to our destination. Really I can not believe the hills in this town! How do people do it? Watching the people traverse them as we made our way along the cable line with women in their heels, men in their suits… simply astounding!

Unfortunately the last stop on the cable line does not exactly get us to Edwards’s doorstep. We had to walk a might longer to get to our final destination but what a view from the street. You can see something called Coit Tower from the top of the hill and I agree with Millie the view is lovely. The walk will not be an easy one for me, not with my leg. I don’t regret taking that bullet for Millie but I won’t deny that its lasting damage hasn’t scarred me in ways more than physical. Millie took one look at the house and asked me if I would be all right with those stairs. I merely pressed on, slow and steady climbing those very same stairs before she could catch up. I will _not_ be deterred.

Unfortunately there was also another killing while we were en route. There is a renewed sense of urgency on our part and we will march ever onward until we get our man.

The matron of the house is a stout woman who does not have time for nonsense. And the flat… well it leaves a lot to be desired and I let the woman know that we won’t be here long.

I’m tired from the journey and even though Millie and I are ready to begin our investigation, we need to get this flat in order if it’s to be our base of operations.

_2, April, 1956_

It took Millie and me a full day to get everything settled. Even though the flat is furnished it is in a sorry state. Try as she might Millie was not able to charm the matron into helping us set up the flat. Her rejoinder every time she saw Millie was, “it just needs a bit of a woman’s touch… and that woman ain’t me. Good day Ms. Harcourt.” I don’t think I’ve ever seen Millie meet her match and that woman is steadfast, nay, made of steel!

We went out and bought essentials as well as a few maps of the city. We needed one that would be large enough to pin to the wall. Starting with what we knew we placed pins in the locations where the bodies were found. Sadly I think the map looks better than the wallpaper in the flat but I digress.

We took a cab to the Big Bop in the hope of finding Bunk. I was disappointed in the cabby for not escorting us to the door but Millie did point out she wouldn’t have in that neighborhood either. It’s sad when a neighborhood is hit with blight; it forces good people away from their homes.

Unfortunately we found out that Bunk had passed away but the new owner of the venue was quite a helpful chap. Millie and I originally thought that Major Sixth was a chord but as the gentleman taught us it is a form of improvisation in music. He gave us a book that contained all the sheet music in major sixth that Bunk used to perform with his band. We also found out that his old band would be performing that night and decided to come back later.

While looking through the sheet music I found a piece dedicated to major sixth and brought it with us when we returned in the hopes that maybe it would draw out our potential benefactor. I have to say the band was divine. We made a request to have the sheet music played. A gentleman came over and struck up a conversation with us, a Sargent Bearden. He was quite keen on the music we had chosen and we fumbled through conversation with him. Millie and I are quite out of practice when it comes to talking in code. We haven't tried to suss someone out to see if they were like us in a long time and are quite out of practice. Eventually the piano player, Sargent Bearden’s wife came over. Wouldn’t you know it, the piano player, Mrs. Iris Bearden, is Major Sixth! She was not impressed by us and regretfully declined to help. I’m not sure who we can enlist now to help us solve this murder…

 

_3, April, 1956_

God bless Millie! Bless that wonderful woman. She slipped Iris our address last night. Apparently she had a change of heart and was interested in hearing more so she rang our flat today. She asked us how long it’s been since our friend had been murdered and we told her it had been 14 years but that we felt confident this was the same killer.

Iris seemed skeptical that we could use the same skills that we did during the war: crack codes, tease out information, find patterns, etc. to find the killer but Millie and I know better. We’ve solved crimes in the past using our skills and I dare say we are bloody good at it if a little out of practice. It’s obvious that Iris is tired of the police standing by and doing nothing. Can’t say I blame the woman. If I had made a home and things were going poorly, I would fight with every fibre of my being to protect the life I had. Which makes my coming to America all the more puzzling. If I like being a librarian then why would I come here to solve a murder? Yes I want justice for Claire and Ruby and Cecily surely, but... is that the end of it?

Iris wants to bring someone on. If she trusts them then so do we. I’m hopeful that we can test if this is a copycat. Even if it is then at least we will have found justice for these women in San Francisco.

 

_4, April, 1956_

Today we met Iris’s ally Hailey Yarner. The girl is young. So very, _very_ young. When she walked through the door I kept wondering who this child was that come through with her red toolbox but she’s a spitfire all right. She made a few faux pas, like thinking that the loo was the name of Millie’s cousin (as if he would be living with us).

She was 16 when she joined the war effort. 16! Though I don’t think I should be one to judge. At 16 I was making my way from Scotland to England no longer wanting to work the farm but wanting to make something of myself. I had bigger ambitions than the hamlet had to offer but I most assuredly made my way much more safely than that young lass had. She traveled by rail to California. I can’t imagine.

I can see why Iris might want her for this endeavor. She has spunk and enthusiasm and vigor… and a vehicle. We are going to need all of those things to push us through. She’s also, as she said in her own words, a tinkerer and a damn good one. I’ll be the judge of that. Millie is positively charmed by her and I don’t think I have seen someone get on Millie’s good side quite that quickly.

We went to the site where the second murder victim, Cecily Blair, was found. Hailey broke us into the building by smashing through a boarded up door. She has already proved her usefulness having gotten us into that building and all of her observations she made today. I dare say she did a better job at observing the murder site than the self-professed "professionals."

Hailey noted that there wasn’t enough blood at the scene for it to be the murder site. Cutting someone’s tongue out would have produced more residual blood and spray than was present. She asked me to draw a picture of the symbol the killer leaves on the victim’s hands. I did and could have kicked myself for not having drawn it out already as a data point for our map. We've pinned each of the newspaper articles and our handwritten notes around the map on the wall to help us work through the clues. Hailey said the drawing looks like Hobo-code. At first I scoffed at her because when she first read it she said it meant “alcohol here.” Millie was a touch more derisive than I but in that moment we went from having a clue to having nothing. But then, _then_  Hailey turned the drawing upside down and let us know that this way it meant something else entirely: hold your tongue.

Now _that_ was a clue! I hadn’t disclosed to Iris about the killer cutting out Claire's tongue. Millie and I knew then that we would need someone from the police to verify that the two murder victims in San Francisco had their tongues cut out as well. This would let us know for sure that this is no mere copycat.

It was obvious from the looks Iris and Hailey shared that their contact in the police force may have some history with them. I hope that history doesn’t get in the way of moving forward in our investigation. I would truly hate for this to be a copycat and not be able to give Claire the justice she so rightly deserves.

 

_5, April, 1956_

Their contact, Olivia, confirmed our suspicions. All three had their tongues cut out postmortem. We ran through the information that we (potentially) know about our killer to create a pseudo-profile:

  1. American soldier based in RAF Daws Hill, England 1942
  2. Catholic (his letter’s in the newspapers referencing “holy palms”)
  3. Registered with the San Francisco Veteran’s Office
  4. May be here as a transient who knows Hobo-Code
  5. Has spent time living elsewhere (14 year gap in known murders)



Thinking back on how we came to this information I can’t help but smile at Hailey’s cheek. We had been using sugar cubes to help us visualize our information as we whittled down the data points. When we got to the last one (#5) we stood there transfixed, staring at that lonely sugar cube as if it held the secrets of the universe. Hailey snatched it right off the table and put it in her mouth. I do have to say that the pleasure with which she savored that cube made me just a touch envious. I don’t think that I have ever had something so simple make me so happy. I’ve noticed that Iris is quick to reproach Hailey. I will try my hardest not to do that. The girl is enjoying life; she should be allowed to savor it for how fleeting it can be.

It’s plain to see how much Iris’s esteem means to the girl and I don’t want to add anything with my own cantankerousness. I don’t mean to be but sometimes I get so wrapped up in trying to solve things that I don’t allow others their own space to freely give their own ideas. I’ll have to work on that.

In order to get the information we needed on the potential killer we had to go back to a piece of Iris and Hailey’s past, the Presidio. And here we encountered the American version of the man at my final interview for the Foreign Office. Same attitude, different attire and accent. The bloody boy wouldn’t listen to what Iris was requesting and we were getting nowhere so I used the information at hand to get us what we desperately needed: a list of men from Door's Hill in spring 1942.

I noted a picture of a boy on the side table just behind the man; it had a picture of a wee lad in a radio flyer so I did the only thing that a sensible woman in her 40’s could do… I went into hysterics. Oh yes, I teared up, grabbed my handkerchief from my purse and spewed out the most amazing shite to ever part these lips.

I wove a tale of my dying “nephew” wanting to meet his dear old dad before passing but I needed men from the list of parameters Iris provided. Millie assisted magnificently filling in information when I gave a sniff or cry. When she said “oh show him the photo Jean” I nearly broke character! It was brilliant. We tag teamed the poor dear and in the end we got what we needed.

Iris and Hailey were gob smacked at our performance. Hailey said I have “moxie” and seemed quite impressed with my ability to improvise. I’m not sure what moxie means but I think I get the general gist and I must admit I kind of like the word to describe me. It’s better than what I’ve heard lately and it doesn’t feel like rejection, it feels like admiration and esteem. This girl may just be growing on me.

 

_6, April, 1956_

We worked most of the day today on the data we had. Iris returned home for dinner with her family while Hailey ate with Millie and me. I made a simple dinner of corned beer, potatoes and carrots. Nothing special but Hailey tore through it like a ravenous beast. I question whether the poor girl cooks for herself or remembers to eat.

We sat in the living room since the dining room table now houses a cornucopia of paper and other data related to our burgeoning profile. The conversation we shared wasn’t stifled or forced but rather ran naturally and we discussed our time working for our respective governments during the war. I didn’t offer up too much myself but was content observing the conversation between Millie and Hailey. I can see that Millie if rather fond of her. She laughs easily and I must admit so do I. I don’t think Millie or I have had much laughter in the past few years. Even though things were high pressure during the war we always found ways to liven things up a bit. Since the war, well… there hasn’t been much to be content about. We’ve been put to pasture and expected to live out our lives content with mediocrity when once we were titans. I’m not saying that I don’t like my life at the library rather it has a certain uniformity that I do crave but it's not living.

I hadn’t expected Hailey to do the dishes when we finished dinner but she did. I don’t know what possessed me but I followed her into the kitchen telling her she didn’t need to do them that it would keep. She just turned smiling over her shoulder at me and said it was the least she could do. Hailey has a very lovely way about her with her manners, something I think Millie could learn from the girl in all honesty. I realize that Millie is a socialite and learned decorum from the best finishing schools in Europe but… its by rote. Hailey takes genuine pleasure in doing what she does for other people, even when they are mundane chores. Millie is always searching for the next big adventure whereas Hailey seems to view life, even it’s most simplest tasks, as the journey.

I didn’t just stand there staring at the back of her like an overbearing husband making sure his little woman did her chores correctly. Instead I just enjoyed her company while she methodically cleaned each dish. At one point she asked me about my cane and why I needed it. I told her quite simply that I had been shot. This is the first time that I’ve seen her become still. It was a little disquieting, her silence, as she mulled over what I’d disclosed.

It made me uncomfortable, the silence. I’ve become so accustomed to her bombastic nature that this somehow felt wrong. She then asked me if I actually need the cane or has it become a fixture. I know she didn’t mean anything by the question but she has a way of inquiry that forces me to dig a little deeper than low hanging fruit and easy answers. Instead of surface level she challenges me to come to a candid answer. In a way she is confronting my (precarious) worldview of myself: my use of my cane may signify, what my autonomy is… or isn’t.

She is a pistol that one.

We eventually went back to the living room.

Millie and I have been working on the letters to the paper. The killer always leaves numbers at the end and we hadn’t been able to crack what it means. At least, not until Iris arrived. We discovered that what the numbers meant were coordinates in one of the 11 districts in San Francisco. Hailey, bless her, had once worked for engineering so she knew how the block grid system works. With this information we were able to take where the bodies were found and match them to their corresponding numbers in the letters. We now know that those numbers weren’t randomly selected but are coordinates. We also realized the two sets of numbers mean two things: 1) the murder site and, 2) the body dump site.

This was a huge break! We were able to deduce where the next murder would happen. Unfortunately it was near the site of a rather large protest rally, one that Iris’s son was attending. Rather than phoning the police we hurried over there in Hailey’s car. We found blood in a descending street but no body. We’d gotten there too late. Iris took off running in a panic to find her son Dennis. Not that I could blame the poor woman.

We jumped into Hailey's car to catch up to Iris. We finally tracked her down in a side alley... and that’s when we saw the body.

I’m still in shock and I can’t bear to write anymore.


	3. Wake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the discovery of Isaac Anderson's body things come to a head for Iris. Will this break the team or will they be able to move forward and catch a killer?

_7, April, 1956_

A young boy died last night. His name was Isaac. He was Iris’s son Denis’s friend. The shock of this youth cut down in the prime of his life will haunt me. We may have cracked the code on the Holy Palms Killer’s letters but we were too late. Equally unfortunate is the fact that the pattern has been broken. I recognize how callous that sounds but I equally can see how this complicates our ability to catch this madman before he kills another innocent and I’ll be damned if he does! Iris was angry when I suggested we couldn’t call the police. I understand that. But if we had waited for the police to arrive there would have been questions and questions would have led to how we had gotten there; that we were right about the ledger’s predictive code. There is no way I would allow our knowledge to be leaked to the papers and scare the killer off. I won’t allow them to get away, not again.

We wouldn’t have been able to decipher the numbers in the letters had Hailey not been around. All of us probably would still be twiddling our thumbs trying to understand what the significance of 11 was. I am continually amazed by the knowledge and adaptability that this girl… no, that this young _woman_ possesses. I dare say that I am learning more from her than she could ever potentially learn from me. She is reminding me to be patient and draw upon what I know. I completely understood her analogy when she described the block pattern being like knitting because it reminded me of the stoffladen, as the ox turns when plowing, back in Scotland. I was able to associate that pattern and could apply it to the 11 districts in San Francisco and understand their block structure. From there I could locate on a map from one set of numbers where the murders take place and from the second number where the bodies will be dumped.

Thanks to Hailey I equally drew on my own knowledge to make the connections and I am thankful for that reminder. She is reminding me to not go with the first thing that just comes into my mind but be, if it’s even possible, _more_ aware of _all_ the pieces of information and stitch them together until they make a sensible whole.

Millie and I did call the police last night but we did not stay for them to show up. Millie put on her best Yankie accent and I have to say it was quite convincing. Hailey went after Iris who was quite disconsolate as she tore away from us screaming her son’s name as she raced to the protest area. My heart ached for Iris watching her run down the street as Hailey chased after. I think her screams will weigh on my conscience for a while to come.

 

_8, April, 1956_

Iris stopped by today and told us that she and Hailey are out. I can’t say that I blame the poor woman. A murder happened not only in her neighborhood but it was someone close to her. I’ve no doubt that the idea that it could have been her own son probably petrifies the poor woman and in that the killer has done what he wants, he is terrorizing the Fillmore residents.

Iris is equally protective of Hailey, more like a mother than someone who feels some casual esteem for a colleague. Iris said that they had discussed and agreed that this hits too close to home. I reminded her that we need them now more than ever; that there is a killer on the streets, _her_ streets. Millie tried to jog Iris’s memory, back to the war where we could spend weeks teasing out a cipher only to hit a dead end, but that we would knuckle up and keep at it. Unfortunately her argument was not persuasive enough for Iris. It was heartbreaking to hear her say she needed to “know her limits” and that she wasn’t willing to try. Without their help I don’t know what we can accomplish or if we can even make headway before another killing.

 

_9, April, 1956_

We’ve continued on but our frustrations are mounting as we go over the information again, and again, and again. Millie is most frustrated of all. I agree, these are not botched muggings and it makes no sense that someone would take the time to move the bodies and cut out their tongues. She has started to question what any of this has to do with Claire. I reminded Millie that Claire was a big talker, spouting her mouth off about America’s late engagement in the war. Isaac Harrison dared to speak the truth to the power’s that be about his neighborhood’s evisceration. Millie supposes it may be a warning to others to keep quiet. If Iris is any indication he’s scaring a community into silence.

All told it is a cascade of encryption and we don’t have the women power to make it move forward. Our best lead at this point is the list of GI’s from Daws Hill at the time that Claire was murdered. Millie was ready to march out the door and speak to every person on the list but I reminded her what an uphill battle that would be considering we would be viewed as a coupl’a foreigners.

Millie suggested we bring in Hailey. Iris had let us know in no uncertain terms that we are on our own but Millie has it in her head that I can be quite persuasive. I know Hailey is an eager young woman but from what I have seen of her she can be as strong as steel even when having her theories tested by two know-it-all code breakers from Bletchley. She may stumble but she does not bend; she comes back again and again more resolute than ever. I think I might like to see if I can make that resolve bend just the slightest bit. Millie knows me too well, she knew I’d rise to a challenge.

 

_10, April, 1956_

I don’t know how but I was able to bring Hailey back into the fold. I went by her flat, well it looked more like a warehouse district, and fortuitously found her working on her car. The only reason I even knew it was her building was because of that car. She gave me a bit of a fright when she rolled out from underneath it. The way she looked at me, so resigned and somewhat sad as she asked me, “you lookin’ for me?” I almost wanted to turn around. Almost. But I was more intrigued by the fact that she was fixing her car on her own. I know she said she could “rig anything needs riggin’ and fix anything needs fixin’” but somehow I have mistakenly assumed it was just bravado rather than truth.

Hailey has a matter of fact way or approaching the world. When I asked her if she fixed the car herself she merely replied with “well, somehow has to.” It was like during the war with just us women around; make do and mend. Something that I myself do for those things I can mend and Hailey it appears is of the same mindset. I think I may respect her more knowing that about her character. It means she doesn’t throw things away at the first sign of wear and tear, rather she invests time in bringing it back to where it needs to be. It may be patched but at least it’s still useful and well cared for.

It wasn’t easy convincing her. She was very upfront that she wasn’t supposed to talk to me and I reminded her that she is her own person. Hailey pointed out that she had gotten that way because of Iris, her Sarge. I think Hailey attributes too much to Iris and not enough to her own personhood. When she noted that there was not a lot of people who would have taken a chance on her or as she stated, “suckin’ air next to a farm hick with the stink of cow still on her” well… It just reinforced that she still views Iris as some sort of savior. Hailey also clings to her roots and may have some shame attached to where she came from and how she has gotten here. If anything I feel that makes her even more commendable for how she has survived and thrived in her life. Not many people have that fortitude and I admire her greatly for it.

I almost thought I would not be able to convince her when she pointed out that helping us would be “right crack stupid”, as Iris would say, but it got me wondering about the relationship she has with Iris. She has a lot of esteem for the older woman and I wondered that if Claire had been alive would she have the same esteem for me?

I made one, last impassioned plea to Hailey letting her know that I had taken Claire under my wing in much the same manner that Iris had with Hailey. But where Hailey had been saved I had failed Claire and I wanted to get some sort of justice for the girl who wasn’t standing here as Hailey was today with all her lessons from Iris. In typical Hailey fashion I knew she was persuaded when she finished my sentence for me and gave me a smile. Bless her for being so _good._

Although she is joining us again, I am troubled by something she said. “People do bad things to folks all the time and never get what’s coming to them.” This is the first time I have ever seen her spirit darkened. She is always light and life. It is something that makes her quite attractive, her way of being in the world. Although she did look quite handsome in her worker coveralls and red bandana but I digress… Her statement makes me wonder at her past and what drove her to leave her home at 16 and what she must have seen those many months on the rails before she arrived in San Francisco, before Iris took her in. I doubt I will have the opportunity to find this out considering my limited time here though I am unsure I would want to know what could make this gentle soul know that truth in life.

I am glad I was able to convince Hailey. I know that she will be an invaluable asset to our cause as she has proven time and again in the few, short days we have known her. I honestly can’t imagine getting to the end of this journey without her or Iris.

Millie for her part struck a dead end with the police. I don’t know who this Detective Bryce is but the man must be a nutter. Millie went there with so much compelling information it is laughable. Apparently it was not enough to turn his head let alone the police in San Francisco. We are, of course, on our own. Millie has the crackpot idea to approach Iris once again, at the wake for Isaac no less! I wish her all the luck in the world.

 

_12, April, 1956_

Hailey and I tracked down Roy Tulles and it did not end well. He was one of the men from our list and we have affirmed that he “fit’s the bill” as the saying goes. We used the list we got from the Presidio of American GI’s stationed at Daws Hill during the time of Claire’s murder. We had crossed three men off before him, “dud’s” as Hailey called them. Roy’s wife Darlene greeted us before we could make it to the door and ring her. She was not impressed with me or my diction and I must say I started to flounder at her gruff nature. Are all people, be they people who were enlisted or the bystanders after the war so truly unhappy here? I probably shouldn’t throw stones at glass houses considering my own disquiet since the war ended.

But, where I floundered Hailey stepped in easily and took over managing the conversation. We got much useful information from Darlene:

  1. Roy has been in and out of jail since wars end
  2. Roy is a drinker (he attends the Veterans Hall, a pub of sorts by my guess)
  3. Roy is violent (when in jail he fought all the time so they kept increasing his time and may have been violent towards Darlene)
  4. Roy hates how much San Francisco has changed while he was overseas



We went back to the flat and I found the addresses for the threeVeterans Hall’s located in city. It was nice having Hailey at the flat again. I didn’t have to look up from what I was doing to know she was there. Her energy is palpable when she is in a room. I hadn’t realized how “empty” the room felt with just Millie and myself. When she came over and looked at the addresses she smiled that confident smile of hers saying “oh I know where those are, I can get us there no problem.” I have no doubt she meant it. She is so self-assured. I appreciate that about her. It’s dependable.

Millie was able to convince Iris to come back. When Iris came through the door you should have seen how quickly Hailey went to explain herself. I’m glad that Iris was not cross with the girl and in fact acknowledged that Hailey was doing the right thing and so was Iris (by coming back).

With the four of us in the room we were able to bounce ideas off of each other once again and it was invigorating. Hailey was, of course, the one to come up with the new pattern. Before we thought the bodies were encircling the Fillmore, “corralling” them as Iris had noted. Instead we have a new theory. People are being shepherded, forcing people out of the Fillmore and into the places they don’t want to be like other parts of the city or even further away. The murders are in a way “proving” that the Fillmore needs to be redeveloped.

Millie looked back over the list and we now have two potentials for our killer:

  1. Peter Mason (his father is George Mason who wouldn’t appreciate the protests happening at city hall considering his vested interest in development and his bid for re-election)
  2. Roy Tulles (angry and violent war veteran who does not like how San Francisco has changed)



Millie and Iris will look into Peter Mason while Hailey and I look into Roy Tulles.

 

_11, April, 1956_

Hailey is going to get herself into trouble one of these days if not seriously hurt if she isn’t more careful! I appreciate how upfront she is but that can also be reckless. We went to theVeterans Hall and no sooner could I try and whisper out how we would suss out the information we needed she went full bore and asked the barkeep where we could find Roy Tulles. She is going to give me more grey hairs I swear!

We thought that Roy wasn’t there and that it was a bust but I found a coaster with what looked like more Hobo-code on it. I stoped Hailey before we could exit the building and she confirmed that the two interlocking circles, handcuffs, mean, “watch out for police”. Now we are getting somewhere!

Once outside, no sooner had I rounded the car to get to the passenger side then Roy Tulles was upon me. He gave me a terrible fright and I stumbled back into the building. I could smell the stink of him as he got in my face demanding to know what the hell I was after. Before I could answer Hailey was upon him. Literally up _on_ him! She launched herself onto his back and put him in a chokehold screaming and flailing about. I think she might have kept the drop on him had he not slammed her into the building and flipped her over his shoulder.

I can’t begin to explain how petrified I was watching the encounter. I felt so impotent because all I could do was watch it happen and nary an ability to assist; it all happened so fast. But Hailey got off the ground quickly and punched that ruddy bastard right in his throat. Brought the bugger to his knees.

The man says he doesn’t hit ladies to which I was my sarcastic self. I scoffed at him but he seemed genuinely perplexed at us. Apparently he thought we were some sort of social workers sent by the board of Charities and Corrections at the behest of his wife to get more money from him. Claimed he wasn’t a “deadbeat”. If that’s how he treats social workers, _women_ social workers, I’d hate to see what else he is capable of!

Hailey chased after him before he could leave shoving the coaster in his face. Unfortunately it appears he doesn’t know Hobo-code judging by how he reacted and talked to Hailey about what was on the coaster. Me with my big mouth interjected and there he was backing me up against the car this time, threatening me. He has one foul temper; a veritable powder keg if you will and I don’t doubt that he could be our killer.

I couldn’t look at the man he scared me so. He was right in my face as he hurled his threat and me stumbling and bumbling around like a buffoon with my words. He reminded me of that lad in my hamlet that tried to take liberties with me. If my brother hadn’ta come upon us well… the encounter still haunts me to this day. Men like Roy with their anger and drink remind me too much of the men in my hometown. Everything has an order in the world and when it is challenged, when you as the weaker sex challenge it then be prepared for the consequences. Hailey came to my rescue yet again by insinuating herself between us and he eventually walked away threatening one last time as he did. 

When we got back to the flat Hailey told the tale of our encounter. I am shaking my head right now amused as I write this… she was bursting with energy and actually said it had been exciting. Exciting! Millie made a flip comment about being in a chokehold from a lunatic and I had retorted that it _had_ been useful because it gave us a glimpse of the truth. Roy Tulles has it in him to do these awful things of that I’ve no doubt.

Millie and Iris made it clear that Peter Mason has the temper of a killer but nowhere near the physique to do what this killer does.

Hailey went with the most logical conclusion that Roy is “our guy”: he’s violent, angry, and was in England at the time of Claire’s killing. He also threatened to silence us as I informed Millie and Iris. Hailey was standing behind me and replied something to the effect of “well not with me around”. She’s a feisty lass that one I’ll give her that though I’ve no doubt she would do good on her word and do everything she could to keep me safe. She must only be a hundred pounds soaking wet and I’ve got more meat on my bones than she does so one would think that I’d be the one to be the protector. No, Hailey is a fighter where I try to talk my way or think my way out of a tight space. Sometimes you can’t talk or think your way out of situations and are left with having to fight. I’m not sure I could do that if push came to shove; too much baggage and fear weighing me down. I hope I don’t have to test that one day.

I think the Hobo-code is a dead end and said as much to the ladies. Hailey was not pleased and defended her position pointing out Roy couldn’t just scrawl out what he does without knowing it. I countered with just knowing Hobo-code wouldn’t make him our killer.

Iris cracked the latest letter and we know that there will be another killing tomorrow thanks to our predictive code. Millie has volunteered to go back to the police. Hopefully she has better success with Detective Bryce than she did the last time.

 

_12, April, 1956_

While Millie was out taking another stab at Detective Bryce Hailey and I stayed at the flat. I was very gentle with her when I said “just because we want this Hobo-code to mean something doesn’t mean that it does.” She was sitting on the pass through between the dinning room and living room. The mid morning sunlight was coming through the window catching the red in her long hair, it looked like the embers that remain in a fire glowing before they die out. She was wearing her saddle shoes, a long green skit and a green argyle sweater as she stared at that damnable coaster we found when we located Tulles. She was quick to reply that I must think her stupid. As if I ever would! She is _dead_ good at this. _She_ saw the herding pattern and why? Because she draws on what she knows and not the first bloody idea that comes into her head. I may have said that nearly verbatim to her. I wanted her to hear, _really_ hear that I think she is an extraordinarily intelligent woman. I hope that did come through.

Millie returned and no sooner had she than Hailey shot over to the wall, to the map and declared Roy “isn’t our guy.” That one threw me and Millie for a loop. We were very skeptical but we heard Hailey out. She said she knows folks like Roy, in her hometown she said that people always blamed bad things that happened on the “simple kid, the one who couldn’t defend himself” but Roy may be a killer but he is no shepherd. He didn’t have the ability to plan these murders and execute them. As Hailey stated, “Roy’s no shepherd.” It went along with the information that Millie had gleaned from the Detective.

From their conversation Bryce pointed out that it wasn’t our job to do what we were doing. Bastard. Maybe if they had actually been doing _their_ job instead of sitting on their laurels the killer might be in jail right now. There is one good piece of information that he divined that we had not, Roy is a brawler but not a planner, the Holy Palms killer does complex murders moving bodies all over Hell’s Half Acre and he does it all while creating his “clever little codes”. Ultimately Bryce stonewalled Millie. He is only going to ensure there are more patrol cars out in the area where we have predicted the next murder will take place. We are truly on our own to stop this madman.

We came to the conclusion that it still could be a Mason, just not the son. It is entirely possible that George Mason was over in England at the time of the Claire's murder since many businessmen came during the war to cut deals. At the memorial he did almost threaten to cut out their tongues as Millie informed us. With this realization Millie informed us that Iris was enroute to the Mason’s to speak with Mrs. Mason and take her up on her offer to help the “sisterhood.” Iris was in serious danger!

Hailey hustled us out of the flat quicker than a bolt of lightning, though Millie did leave a message at the precinct for Detective Bryce in the hopes he would respond. Hailey drove like a madwoman to the Mason’s. When we arrived Mr. Mason was closing the boot to his car. Hailey and Millie ran over to him and I went as quickly as I could (though I dare say thanks to Hailey I have found that I am more mobile and getting stronger every day). Thankfully Iris was not in his car but that meant she was in the house… and we may have been dreadfully wrong.

Hailey and I flew up the stairs and could hear Iris’s screams from the porch. The door was locked so I knocked out a windowpane in the front door and reached in to unlock the door. Mrs. Mason shrank away from two double doors, which were locked. Hailey pounded on the door screaming for Iris. I found a key on the floor and helped Hailey to open the doors. When we got inside we saw Peter on top of Iris strangling her with what appeared to be his belt. Hailey grabbed a poker from the fireplace and hit him over the head with it. He fell unconscious atop Iris. Iris was crying and hysterical as Hailey helped to get Peter off of her. Iris scrambled away and clawed at the belt around her neck but Hailey helped get it off and pulled her into her arms letting Iris know that she had her and she was okay.

Mrs. Mason came through, pushing past me and went to her son pulling him into her lap bemoaning her “little bear.” Mr. Mason joined shortly bewildered about what was going on. Mrs. Mason said that we were intruders and needed to be “silenced.”

We horrifically came to find that Mrs. Mason was aware of her son’s proclivities and had enlisted Roy to help cover it up. She had the bodies dumped to help her family, help her husband in his development and political ambitions. The awfulness of it all, her son may be sick but she _designed_ all of this by shaping and using it. Peter was always called “little bear” by his parents feeling that his father eclipsed him but “little bear” is also the constellation Ursa Minor, the North Star on its tail (box on holy palms). Peter believed himself to be that guiding light letting people know where they belong (angels who ascend to God). He cut out their tongues because he couldn’t stand their talking, couldn’t stand to hear their derision of him and his mother used that to help her husband ensure his aspirations while protecting her son from the law.

The police arrived and they arrested Mrs. Mason and Peter Mason thanks to Detective Bryce finally listening to Millie. I’m glad the man wised up and took that message to act upon it.

Mr. Mason tried to say to Iris that he had nothing to do with this as he followed his wife and son out. But he did. He got into the neighborhood and was killing them slowly by what he deemed progress.

I can’t believe that Peter Mason, that sad excuse for a human being, is the one who killed Claire. Now it will be home... for me but not Millie.

We sat upon the porch and had a heart to heart. Unfortunately Millie has broken mine. I hadn’t expected that at the end of this journey that once we caught the killer that I would return home alone. Millie asked what is there in London for her, “another dreadful job. More pathetic suitors looking to corner me into kids and a kitchen.” My heart fairly broke when she said that. I thought that my being there might somehow be enough. Millie and I have been through so much together and been so much for each other. When she said “I’m sorry” that’s when my heart did well and truly break. I couldn’t stand to sit next to her so I walked away. I left my cane on that porch as well. I think it’s time that I leave things behind that I no longer have room for in my life. My eyes are welling with tears as I write this and I must remain strong. Although I can’t imagine not having Millie with me in London there is always letters and postcards. It won’t be the same on Sundays but I will mend and make do… someday.

 

_13, April, 1956_

Detective Bryce allowed us to be present when they apprehended Roy at the Veterans Hall. Isaac’s father was the one who ultimately helped the police to get him. The poor man. I can only imagine the restraint he must’ve had to endure to not grab Roy and kill him for participating in what was done to his son.

Roy tried to run but Bryce took him down, throwing him into a bar table before cuffing him and reading him his rights and taking him out.

I must admit I am smiling as I think back on Hailey saying, “well, I think we’ve earned ourselves a drink” and marching her way over to a table and claiming it as her own. She seemingly has no reservations. As I’ve written before she lives her life in the moment, savoring it’s small victories. We all sat down at a table and Millie ordered us 4 pints. Hailey ordered a whiskey and I seconded that. I think I like her even more for just her drink order! Nothing better than a whiskey to mend what ails you.

The barkeep tried to dissuade us by saying the bar was for military veterans only. My voice could have shattered steel it was so frosty when I retorted, “then we’re in the right place then _dearie_.” He complied and brought us what we need. We had a wonderful time sharing drink and stories. When I mentioned that I would be heading to New York and back home Hailey surprised me. She stated I couldn’t leave until I’d actually had a true taste of the city. She placed her hand over mine and faintly pleaded with me using her crystal clear blue eyes and cheerful smile to beseech me.

I wasn’t planning on leaving straight away like I must’ve made it sound. Now… now I think I won’t see New York after all and would rather take a look around San Francisco. It would be nice to see the city while I’m not trying to solve murders. I can spend time with Millie and say a proper good-bye to her. And maybe, just maybe Hailey would be willing to be my tour guide for a while…

 


End file.
